"mon amour,"

Previous Chapter

Notes:

Hello hello, sorry it's a week late, I've been busy with NaNoWriMo. But here it is: the LAST chapter. Thank you for going on this journey with me. Enjoy.

Also, warnings in this chapter for: childbirth, fear of a dog hurting a child (nothing happens tho dw Odeta would NEVER), references to overprotectiveness, pain and blood, medical stuff, very very brief reference to the attempted rape in chapter 8 of this fic. But it's mostly fluff.

---

Since you and Pietro had returned from your honeymoon, you’d become a little less shy around the other Avengers. They were mostly polite to you, but kept their distance, which may have had something to do with Pietro’s fiercely protective – some might say overprotective – hovering.

So sometimes you ate dinner with the other Avengers. You never said much. You weren’t as comfortable with English as either of the twins. You spoke it fairly fluently, but having to translate every sentence in your head was exhausting.

Today, you were sitting in the rec room, a bowl of cereal resting on top of your bump, and Odeta curled up at your feet. You chewed and swallowed slowly. American cereal was a lot more sugary than what you were used to back home, and right now, you felt as though you needed the boost.

A textbook lay open but forgotten on the side table next to you. After the battle of Sokovia, you had mused that you might like to become a medic. It seemed to be something you were good at.

SHIELD jumped at the chance. Since you were nine months pregnant, they had given you books and allowed you to work through them at your own schedule. There would be classes, eventually, but again, at your own schedule.

Given how flexible and permissive they were being, you assumed ulterior motives. Sure, the idea of having a super-powered medic was enticing, but if you stayed, that meant Wanda and Pietro stayed too. Not that they’d shown any desire to leave. Still.

As you took another bite of cereal, you felt a cramp in your lower abdomen. It was probably a Braxton-Hicks contraction. God knows you’d gotten used to them over the last few weeks.

You set your half-eaten cereal down next to your textbook and pushed down on the sofa, trying to get to your feet. Walking around usually helped. It felt like a bad period pain.

Odeta got to her feet as well, and watched as you tried to stand up. She was antsy, like she wanted to help you but didn’t know what to do.

“{It’s okay, girl},” you said, trying to sound soothing, but it was hard to catch your breath. As soon as you were on your feet, you were going to pet her, and then maybe take her for a nice walk around the compound.

Or at least, that was your plan.

Pop.

You felt a gush of liquid escaping your vagina, beyond your control. Before you had a chance to feel embarrassed, the pain of the contraction flared up.

“Oof,” you said, your face contorted as you fell back into your seat. You clasped your hands over your belly and rocked forward, trying to manage the pain.

Odeta began to bark, and then ran from the room. Hunched forward, you put your hands on the back of your head and tried to breathe.

“Hey, are you alright?” You looked up to see Steve Rogers standing in the doorway, staring at you. Odeta was by his side, anxiously pawing at the ground.

“I think my waters just broke,” you said, and you watched the colour drain from Captain America’s face. “Can you help me up? I need to walk around.”

“Of course.” He stood over you, clearly unsure how to help. You shuffled forward in your seat and he put an arm around your shoulders. Very carefully, he pulled you to your feet.

As you stood there, clutching at your stomach, you noticed that there was a wet patch where you’d been sitting on the sofa. Steve was very politely pretending not to notice.

Suddenly, this all felt very real. You were going to have a baby. Tears sprang to your eyes, and in spite of your best efforts, began to roll down your cheeks.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” said Steve. “F.R.I.D.A.Y? Call Pietro. Tell him he’s needed here.”

You closed your eyes and clung to Steve’s arm. It hurt. A lot.

Suddenly, a familiar hand was curling around the back of your neck, and then Pietro was pulling you into his arms.

“Shh, shh,” he murmured, stroking your hair. He was sweaty. He’d just come from some kind of physical training. You wanted to melt into his warmth. “{What’s wrong?}”

“{The baby’s coming}.” You felt him freeze beside you. “{They need to clean up in here. I- I made a mess}.” Embarrassment flooded you.

“{Don’t worry about that. I’m gonna take you to the medbay, yeah? Stark will send a cleaning crew}.”

With Pietro’s arm around you, you started walking towards the medbay. Odeta made an inquisitive noise and bounded in front of you. You stopped walking.

Captain America was still standing by the door, hovering awkwardly, like he didn’t know what he was supposed to be doing.

“Steve, can I ask a favour?” you said, and he straightened up immediately.

“Of course.”

“Could you watch Odeta for a little while? I was just about to take her for a walk. I think she’s feeling a little pent up.”

“Absolutely.”

“{Go with Steve, Odeta},” you said, waving her towards him. “Thank you, Steve, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Any time.”

*

When you arrived at the medbay, the doctor directed you to lie down on the bed and put your feet up in the stirrups. You froze, staring at the bed. Your mind flashed back to every medical test, every experiment Hydra ever did to you. You remembered the doctor’s unwanted hands touching you.

Pietro must’ve noticed your discomfort, because he asked, “do we have to do it this way?”

The doctor looked at you sympathetically. “I need to check the dilation of your cervix. But I could get a female doctor or midwife to do it if that would make you more comfortable?”

You swallowed. “Okay.”

Pietro helped you change into the hospital gown while the doctor was out of the room. His hands were trembling so much that they looked blurry.

“{Piet? Are you okay?}”

“{I just… can’t believe this is actually happening}.”

“{Are you scared?}”

“{Yes}.” He said it so abruptly that it surprised you. He was normally so reticent to show any kind of vulnerability. “{Are you?}”

“{Terrified}.”

He helped you up onto the bed. While you waited for the doctor, he pulled up a chair next to you and rubbed your stomach soothingly. You closed your eyes, and another contraction starting. You gasped in pain, and Pietro was on his feet instantly, cupping your face in his hands.

“{What’s wrong, sweet girl? Did I hurt you?}”

“{Contraction}.” You grabbed his hand and squeezed. If it hurt him, he didn’t show any sign of it.

When the second doctor came in, she introduced herself. You lay back and tried not to think about anything as she checked your cervix. It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t a pleasant sensation. Pietro was very tense beside you.

“That’s about 5cm,” said the doctor. “It’ll be a little while yet. The team will keep checking on you regularly to ensure everything is alright, but you can relax for now. I’ll have someone bring you something to eat to keep your energy up.”

“Thank you,” you said, breathing a sigh of relief.

With Pietro’s help, you pulled your legs out of the stirrups and shifted into a more comfortable position. Just as you’d sat up, Wanda came into the room.

“{Is it happening?}” she asked.

“{It’s happening},” Pietro confirmed. “{Well, sort of. They said it will take a while}.”

Wanda pulled up a chair. “{Well, I’m here. Anything you need, I’m here}.”

The two of them sat with you, keeping you company as you ate the light meal that a nurse brought you. Wanda remained in her seat, but Pietro couldn’t seem to stay sitting down. If there was ever a break in conversation, he was pacing and wringing his hands. It was starting to stress you out.

“Piet,” you said, and he was by your side in an instant, holding your hand.

“{Yes, my love?}”

“{Do you want to go for a run? Wanda can keep me company, and it’s not like anything’s happening right now}.”

Pietro scoffed at that. “{I’m not leaving you while you’re in labour}.”

“{The pacing is getting really agitating, Pietro},” said Wanda. She stood up and began to herd him towards the door. “{If anything happens with the baby, we will call you. Go use up some of that energy. Okay?}”

He looked at you over Wanda’s shoulder, and you nodded.

“{You could check on Odeta? I feel bad for foisting her onto Steve like that},” you said.

“{I will},” said Pietro. “{Call me if anything happens, okay? Anything}.”

“{We will},” said Wanda. Pietro sped from the room. She leant against the wall and sighed. “{I love my brother but he can be exhausting}.”

“{I love your brother too},” you said. “{That’s why I married him}.” You giggled. Even though you’d been married a couple of months now, it still felt surreal to say.

She returned to her seat beside you. “{Do you need anything?}”

You sighed. You didn’t think there was anything that concrete that would help right now. You were just stuck in waiting mode.

“{Just keep me company?}”

“{That I can do}.”

“{So… How are things going with Vision?}” It wasn’t something you could talk to her about in front of Pietro. He didn’t like or trust Vision, and you were getting sick of the two of them arguing about it.

“{Really well}.” She gave you a shy smile. “{I thought… I thought that maybe once Pietro was better, I would feel different. Like maybe I only liked him because he was kind to me when I needed him. But it’s not just that. He’s smart and he’s funny and sweet. And I think he really likes me}.”

“{I think he does too}.” You had seen the way he looked at her. “{I’m happy for you}.”

You were about to say more, but then another contraction hit you. You gasped in pain and threw out your hand.

“{Contraction?}” Wanda asked, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. Too pained to speak, you just nodded. “{Okay, okay, just breathe with me, okay?}” You tried to match her breathing. It helped a little, but it still hurt. You rode out the wave of the contraction, squeezing her hand, and when the pain subsided, you slumped back onto your pillows. “{Better?}”

“{Better.}

When Pietro returned, his hair was wet. He had changed into comfortable, clean clothes, and there were damp patches around his collar. He stooped to kiss your forehead, and you caught a whiff of his shampoo.

“{Did you shower?}” you asked, pushing a lock of damp hair behind his ear.

“{I hope that’s okay? I was sweaty after running around}.”

“{Of course it’s okay}.” You tugged him towards you so that you could kiss his cheek. “{How is Odeta?}”

“{Steve is happy to look after her for the moment, but if there are any issues, Tony has staff on hand to look after her. You don’t need to worry, my sweet girl}.”

He pecked you on the lips, and your eyes fluttered shut. “{Good}.”

*

To your eternal gratitude, the doctor let Wanda stay with you and Pietro throughout the birth. One of them stood on each side of the bed, clasping your hands tightly in their own.

“{You’re doing so well, sweet girl},” murmured Pietro, “{I love you so much}.”

You began to sob then. You had heard plenty of stories of women screaming horrible things at their husbands during birth, but you didn’t have that urge. Any anger you might’ve felt turned to despair. You were afraid. You weren’t ready for this. You were too young, and so was Pietro.

Gasping, you squeezed Wanda and Pietro’s hands again. Your chest was heaving with sobs, and you were stalled.

“{You need to breathe, sweetheart},” said Wanda, smoothing your hair out of your face. You were drenched in sweat, certain you looked a mess right now. You gasped and shuddered, but couldn’t steady yourself.

“{Breathe with me},” said Pietro, and the two of them started doing the breathing the doctor had showed you. You tried to mimic it, but sobs kept breaking through, disrupting the rhythm.

“{It hurts, Piet},” you whimpered.

“{I know, baby. But you’ve got to breathe}.”

“{You don’t know},” you said, feeling too weak to say anything else.

“You’re almost there,” said the doctor. “Push. Push.”

“I am pushing!” you yelled. Your heart hurt. You felt like you might die. Pietro was holding you, his arm around your shoulders and his hand gripping yours. He was whispering sweet words to you, but you could barely hear him. You pushed.

And then it was over.

You heard your baby crying, and your jaw dropped. Even through the haze of pain, something primal activated within you, and you knew you had to hold your child. Pietro wasn’t looking at you anymore. He was staring at the baby that the doctor was holding. It was a boy. Your son.

“You still need to pass the placenta,” said the doctor. A nurse brought your baby over and placed him into your arms. You blinked.

Nothing in the world could’ve prepared you for how you felt in that moment. He was so tiny and precious and strange. He barely looked human, and it would be a while before he could open his eyes. You could see Pietro in the ridge of his brow, the shape of his nose. Your heart had never felt so full.

They were still telling you to push. You did as you were told, although it now felt like you were just a gaping wound down there.

The nurse ushered Pietro over to cut the umbilical cord. His hand was trembling as he did so. When he was done, he stepped back, and Wanda grabbed his hand.

 You don’t know how long they let you hold him, but soon, the nurse returned to you.

“We’re just gonna get him cleaned up for you, okay?” she said. Reluctantly, you let her take him from your arms. Immediately, you felt empty. “And weigh him and just do a couple of minor tests. It’ll just be a couple of minutes.”

You watched forlornly as they took your son away. Pietro was by your side immediately again, taking your hand and kissing the top of your head.

It felt like an age before they handed him back to you, with all the blood and goop wiped free from him. The severed umbilical cord was tied in a knot, and they’d put a diaper on him. You lifted him up to your face and inhaled his smell.

“{Can I hold him?}” Pietro asked quietly. You had almost forgotten he was there. For a moment, you felt guilty. Pietro had been your world. But you had a son now. Your world was bigger.

Carefully, you passed him into Pietro’s arms. His eyes were very wide as he stared down at his son.

“{He’s beautiful},” he whispered.

*

Once he’d had his first feed, your son was a bit more active. He flailed and kicked around, trying to discover  this strange new world around him using all of his limbs. He grabbed Pietro’s finger in his tiny fist and squeezed, and Pietro’s mouth fell open. You’d never forget the look in your husband’s eyes in that moment.

For your part, you were exhausted. You relished holding him, but you also enjoyed the breaks you got when Pietro and Wanda both took turns. Your entire body ached, you were hungry, you were sore and your nipples were leaking. You just wanted to sleep.

After a couple of hours, the doctors said you could go back to your room. You were exceptionally sore, but you could walk, so you managed to make it mostly unassisted.

Wanda held your son so that Pietro would be free to catch you if you stumbled. As soon as you got back to your rooms, the baby began to fuss and cry. Pietro plumped up some pillows for you on the couch, and Wanda handed the baby back to you so that you could feed him.

“{How are you feeling?}” Pietro asked, stroking your hair out of your face.

“{More exhausted that I’ve been in my life. And like I need a shower}.”

He made a sympathetic noise, and murmured, “{Soon}.”

When your son had calmed down again, Wanda took over. She was taking to her duties as aunt very quickly. She rocked him and cooed at him while Pietro helped you shower. The baby was still calm when you emerged, so you got into bed.

“{Wake me if he needs anything},” you said to Pietro, voice hazy with sleep.

“{I will, my love}.” He kissed your forehead.

As it turned out, you didn’t need Pietro to wake you. As soon as your baby made a soft crying sound, you were awake instantly, your breasts sore and leaking. At least you’d managed to get a few hours of sleep.

“{Give him to me},” you said to Pietro, who was trying to rock him back to sleep. He handed him over, and then shifted another pillow behind you so you could sit up more easily. “{Where’s Wanda?}”

“{Asleep}.” Pietro settled down next to you on the bed. “{It’s late. She said to call her if we need anything, any time}.”

You exhaled, eternally grateful for aunt Wanda.

*

When your son started being able to keep his eyes open, you decided it was time to introduce him to Odeta. Pietro was nervous about the idea at first, but Odeta had always been gentle with you. Besides, Pietro would be there. There was no way she would be able to hurt the baby with his superspeedy dad running interference.

Wanda opened the door, and Odeta bounded over to see you, barking. It had been days. She had clearly missed you. At the commotion, your son opened his eyes and began to cry.

“{Shh, shh, my love. My sweet boy},” you murmured. Odeta back off immediately, looking chastened and confused. She stared at the tiny bundle in your arms. “Odeta?”

Cautiously, she took a step forward. And then another. When she got close enough, she sniffed at your son. Pietro was right beside you, ready to act if anything went wrong. Odeta nuzzled against your hand. You petted her gently.

“{Odeta, this is Olek. Olek, meet Odeta}.” The two of you agreed that you were going to name your son after Pietro’s father. It had seemed right. Wanda had teared up when you told her.

Olek stared at Odeta. He reached out his tiny hand and touched her nose, and then pulled back when he found that it was wet. Odeta stayed very still throughout the exchange. Carefully, you guided Olek’s hand so that he stroked the fur at the top of her nose. Again, Odeta stayed frozen. When you were done, Olek closed his eyes, and went straight to sleep.

From then, it was hard to drag Odeta from Olek’s side. She slept under his crib, with the posture of a guard dog. It brought you a lot of comfort to know that if anyone wanted to hurt Olek, that would not only have to go through you, your super-powered husband, and an aunt with mind control powers, but also a faithful guard dog.

And sometimes those early weeks were hard. Your body ached with the pains of childbirth. Your breasts were constantly sore and swollen and leaking. And sometimes you couldn’t stop your son from crying, no matter how hard you tried.

But you got through it. Because you weren’t alone. You had Pietro. And Wanda. Odeta. The rest of the Avengers.

And more importantly, you knew you could get through it, because you were a survivor. You had survived Sokovia, after all. You all had.

---

Notes:

The thud of a shot glass smacking against the bar top draws your attention to the pair you came here with. Lemon hops off his barstool, and takes a step back while wiping the remnants of his drink away from his mouth.

“Right. Well, this night is nearing its end for me. This bird is leaving the nest. So, you two lovebirds can fly freely and all that bullshit!”

“Are you just testing out every avian reference you can make in one go, or...?”

Lemon grins at his brother’s annoyance then leans over to kiss your temple, “he gets testy on whiskey.”

Lemon moves to wrap a hand around the back of Tangerine’s neck to press their foreheads together,

“Behave.”

Tangerine gives him a tight nod but gently pushes him away by his chest,

“Get home safe, mate.”

You share some hugs and goodbyes with Lemon before it’s just you and your boyfriend together in this bar.

Tangerine stays standing after speaking last to Lemon. Taking the last swig of his Bourbon and setting it behind you onto the bar-top. He doesn't draw his arm back, and instead cages you in with his body. You're spun around in your seat looking up at him. He smiles down at you before leaning in to share a gentle kiss. His one hand moves to mimic his brother’s previous action; by holding the back of your head to deepen the kiss. You smile against his plump lips and enjoy this shared moment. Not wanting to have too much PDA, you pull back and give his biceps a squeeze.

Normally, when you lock eyes with Tangerine it always feels like he is the only one there with you. Except for today, you’re brought back to reality, as people dodging others to make their way through this club are causing the patrons next to you to bump into your side. It shakes you out of your tunnel vision every few minutes.

“Want another round?," he hums. Then fully moves to the right-side of you to speak with the bartender after your nod of confirmation. You swivel in your seat to have your back to the sweating, dancing bodies on the floor; Not knowing where some of them end and begin in the dim lighting. Another jostle to the leg of your stool has you firmly steadying your heels on the bar foot-rail.

You cannot truly blame the bar-goers as they have no control over the constantly moving traffic in this building. This place is overcrowded and the noise of the music is deafening but you take what you get. You’re happy to have this opportunity to join the Twins on a chill Saturday night out, which has now become a date night. It gives you that sense of normalcy with your man that you’ve been craving.

He’s subconsciously fixing his mustache in the wall-mirror across the bar, as the bartender fixes the drinks. You take this moment to admire him. But the feeling of a quick squeeze to your ass turns your grin into a frown with a slow realization. Both of Tangerine's hands are above his waist right now. So, you glance over to your left and eye up the man who has been pressed against your side for a good majority of the night.

“The fuck?”

“Whoops!"

The guy with the gold tooth; who's smile earlier matched the one he's bearing now. But it makes you uneasy, as it feels more smarmy in nature than sympathetic. You lurch away, trying not to cause a scene, especially in front of your hot-headed boyfriend. But this belligerent man one hundred percent just knowingly grabbed your ass. He has a very punchable self-satisfied smirk on, as he tries to feign innocence while sipping from his drink. The touch from another hand snakes it's way around your waist. You jerk in your seat before you realize you were subconsciously pressing your back closer to Tangerine during that interaction.

Tangerine sounds amused, "You alright, bunny? Why do you keep jumping?"

“Nothing. He just touched me I think.”

He leans down to hear you better, “What?”

“I just think he grabbed my ass.”

“What?”

The way he responds is unsettlingly calm. He squeezes your waist for a beat before standing straight and trying to size up the man in question.

“Please. It’s okay. Let’s just go to the other end of the bar. Or we can dance! You promised we could.”

Tangerine ignores you and moves closer to the man. He looks relaxed but you see the veins in his neck flexing. You cannot hear everything that's being said since he’s on the other side of Gold Tooth, but catch him mouthing things like 'apologize to the lady' and 'bash your fucking face in'.

A sinking feeling washes over you because it does not seem like this will lead anywhere but towards escalation. Tangerine has never had reasonable reactions to high-tension situations. It's not something you’re supportive of but can understand that sometimes reactions like that are crucial in his line of work. Where an emotionally labile choice could end with a victory or demise. Except Gold Tooth, who he’s now going head-to-head with, is an 'Average Joe'. Not a man affiliated to a gang or a weapon-wielding mobster. As a trained fighter, Tangerine has a clear, unfair advantage and you’re reminded there are a LOT of witnesses if anything happens.

Gold Tooth has been poking at Tan’s chest with whatever insults he’s hurling his way then gives him a hard shove—pushing him back into a group of women.

And , we’re off.

Tangerine immediately focuses on helping one woman up, who had toppled over due to the sudden collision of twice her body weight. His mouth is moving; probably with a rush of his English charm as he clasps her hand between his. His eyes scan the rest of the women in this surrounding Bachelorette party to ensure they’re all unharmed. Then in a dizzying second, he turns and punches Gold Tooth in the gut. Causing him to double forward. One of his friends, sporting a worn maroon fedora, shouts something at Tangerine and grabs at his wrist. Fedora uses his other hand to smash a half-full beer bottle into Tangerine's restricted arm. Tangerine wastes no time reacting by breaking free from his grasp, and grabbing Fedora by back of his collar for his own pummeling.

“T!”

He ignores your plea as he, as promised, bashes Fedora’s head into the bar top. A man, in an ugly green shirt, tries pulling Tangerine away from the assault. Tangerine drops Fedora's limp body to the floor and elbows Greenie in the throat. A gargled choke escapes him, as Greenie immediately lurches back and scurries away from the fight.

Tangerine whirls his body to a degree after feeling a firm hand on his shoulder and makes eye contact with Goddamn Gold Tooth. The mother fucking guy who started this entire ordeal. He mentally notes his brother would reason this man to be 'a true fucking Diesel!'

Tangerine gets punched square in the nose. You stare helplessly at other patrons as you watch your boyfriend return a few blows back. Harder. No one is making a move to stop this. Why can't anyone else get the idea that maybe this isn’t a normal bar fight? Is it not obvious based on how calculated and fast his moves are? Tangerine is a skilled assassin and you’re beginning to worry he may snap. The trajectory of these people's lives may just well change, if they’re about to witness a murder or two.

You turn to the bartender to plead for his assistance in stopping your raging boyfriend by at least calling the cops. But this tattooed riddled, muscular barkeep raises his hands up in surrender. There was no way he was stepping in based on the rate these men were being taken down by Tangerine.

A crack echoes over the pounding music, and once you realize the source of the noise, it's a gut-churning sound. You whip your head in the direction it came from. The area in which your boyfriend was just assaulting a man.

Lo and behold, there he is with fresh blood slowly starting to drip from his forehead and nose. Gold Tooth, now passed-out, was caught by one of his friends that was smart enough to avoid being in T’s warpath.

“Did you just fucking head butt him?”

“Let’s go,” he growls and grabs your hand; dragging you away from the scene he caused.

“Oh, yeah, like no one knows to look for the well-dressed man that stood out at this dive bar! You’re not going to get away with this.”

You’re hissing at him over the music, as he weaves you both towards the back doors that lead into a back alleyway. The quick transition from booming chaos to thrumming silence has you tensely staring at Tangerine.

“I think I just did,” he hums.

“You have anger problems."

He tsks, “You’re right. Do you reckon I should go back in there and apologize? Shake their hands and buy them all pints? Would that make for a happy ending?”

“Fuck you,” your arms are now crossed. Trying your hardest to come off as annoyed. But he’s standing in front of you with a watchful look. He's always so handsome, but especially now just lovingly gazing at you. Even with blood dripping down his face and blown-out pupils from his recent acts of violence. He’s looking really ravishing.

“That was the plan.”

He swoops closer to pick you up by your thighs and presses you into the wall of the building. You gasp at that motion paired with Tangerine’s breath on your neck.

“Can I have you? Here?”

"Oh he's in gentleman mode now?"

He grumbles against your skin in response and pushes his hard-on against your clothed pussy. Clearly, you’re both too turned on by all the adrenaline.

“Please.”

You rock down against him, “yes. You can fuck me. Make it quick.”

He’s frantically fumbling with this belt and moving your underwear to the side before fully thrusting his cock into you. With a pained cry, your nails dig into his shoulders at his swift motion.

“Sorry, love,” he mouths a kiss under your ear. His hips already rocking into you at a harsh pace. His gripping hands flexing on your hips, as he fucks you harder into the brick wall.

The noise of your sex was obscene, echoing off the walls of the club but mixing in and fading out with the music vibrating the bricks against your back. Tangerine is pushing his face against your neck; gasping and biting at your heated skin. You’re close to cumming alone just from hearing those very grunts he’s making. And your pussy was throbbing with the need to cum as his pounding continued. Tangerine is shoving his cock impossibly deeper and faster into your weeping pussy, his moans muffled on the mouthful of skin he’s biting.

But the sound of sirens rings louder in your ears than the beating of your racing heart or Tangerine’s moans. Your hand is smacking frantically against his shoulder,

“We need to go!”

Tangerine has opted for long, slow movements, his cock never leaving you. You shoot him a warning glare as he tries to challenge you.

Reluctantly, but not needing to be told ‘no’ again, he is lowering you down with some angry muttering along the lines of ‘these fucking clowns in the red-and-blue giving me blue balls.’

the sofa whines as you shuffle, the divot where you both tend to sit only sinking lower. you know it’ll break soon, but you’re both too comfortable to care.

“he said that?” is his response; his brows knit unhappily at the prospect of his best friend speaking ill of you. you smooth the creases in his pallid skin with your thumb and tilt his head to keep working on the makeup. sirius pushes against your grip on his face and worms his way closer for a kiss. your chest burns white hot with a residual ache of love for him. so of course you oblige and peck him chastely, head pushed at a funny angle to avoid bumping noses. you’re chatting again before he has time to work another out of you.

“i mean… i am a prat sometimes, but so is james! and remus agreed with me.” sirius laughs. “what?” you ask.

“you’re sweet,” he says plainly. “my chatty girl.”

your body breaks into a flush, hot with affection. you can’t find it in yourself to answer, too occupied with hiding your expression, a dead giveaway to how much he’s flustered you with one sentence.

you swivel to reach for an eyeliner pen to replace your brush. your brows dip as you tell him, “stay still.”

“yes, pup.”

your tongue lolls out of the side of your mouth as you begin to draw an array of stars underneath his eye, only the faint scratching of ink against skin to be heard. when you’re finished, you all but shout triumphantly; you quite unceremoniously thrust a mirror into his lithe hands and grin. he humours you, gazes at his own reflection. his lips immediately and swiftly pull back to reveal gleaming canines.

“pup, this is amazing!” he says, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. you warm at his praise.

“you think so?”

“oh, yeah. you’ve got to do this all the time, i look so hot.”

“you’re always hot, idiot,” you giggle, too endeared to worry about the ego boost you’ve planted upon him. he leans for another kiss.

“fine, hotter than usual. smokin’.” he wiggles his eyebrows.

“prat,” you say, though he knows you mean no insult.

“i’m not the prat, you are. remember?”

he gets a slap to the chest for that comment. you pout, lips full of air that he pushes out with a real kiss, working your mouth open with his tongue. you melt as he scrubs a rough hand across your back and coaxes you closer.

he always calls you by your full name, of course he sometimes uses nicknames or pet names but he prefers saying your name properly.

if he’s trying to show you something but you’re not paying attention he will grab the back of your head and make you look at him. gently of course.

says “oh?” when you tell him about something that’s upsetting you. it’s hot because he crouches down a little to look at you in the eyes, he then repeats “oh?”

he likes to stare at you while you’re doing your hair, head resting on his hand and a smirk on his face. you don’t know what’s going through his head.

if you braid your hair he will grab one of the braids and hold it between his fingers and look at it while you talk.

“so smart, my girl.”

remus lupin:

(sorry for the spicy gift i just HAD to add it, remus is my weakness)

he always notices when you add something new to your hair. it could be a new headband, new hair clips or anything like that.

when he is really interested in what you’re saying he will rest his arm behind your head on the sofa, his brows furrowed.

he is the type to brace himself against the doorframe.

he blinks a little slower when he is trying to show you he cares about what you’re telling him.

acts of service. acts of service. acts of service!!!!!!!!!

he never lets you cook.

always offers to help brush your hair and he will sometimes pretends your brush got stuck in your hair just so he can pull it a little, you know he’s doing it on purpose because you hear him giggle every time.

when you’re sitting in the common room he likes to sneak behind you and sit on the back rest of the couch so you’re left in between his open legs.

“you smell just as pretty as you look.”.

peter pettigrew:

although he hates PDA he always makes sure to be touching some part of your body if you’re sitting next to each other, it can be your shoulder, your pinky, etc.

without thinking he rolls his sleeves and sighs when something is on his mind.

sometimes he lets you talk and talk for what feels like hours until he shuts you up by planting a fat kiss on your lips, he is too polite to tell you to shut up.

being around the other three can be quite overwhelming for anyone even peter so at the end of the day when he sneaks into your room he sits down on your bed and once again lets a sigh escape his mouth while stretching his neck side to side, his eyes closed.

sometimes he just stares at you without saying anything, if it was anyone else looking at you like that you’d think he was angry but he couldn’t be angry or annoyed because soon enough he whispers “come give me a kiss, yeah?”

contrary to his reputation as the skittish more weak willed member of the marauders he tends to be quite assertive when talking to you. he seems to always know what he wants.

staring is a peter thing. in the middle of making out he will pull back and grab your face not letting you move just to… stare at you?

“you’re not going anywhere right? stay with me always yeah?”

James Potter:

oh the antics. he waits for you right outside the great hall to spin you around and drop you (just to catch you before you fall) and kiss you in front of everyone. don’t deny it, it gives you an ego boost.

it is james potter after all.

he likes to show off his strength even if you claim it gives you second hand embarrassment.

he puts your hands on your face because he can’t seem to get enough of your touch. he would live under your skin if he could.

jealousy. he gets jealous very easily. you were polite to snape? he refuses to look at you all throughout dinner. you touched hands with the nice hufflepuff boy? he doesn’t want to hold your hand for at least the next two days. oh and when he is jealous he pouts.

he thinks of himself as a human chair. in the confines of his room the only place he’ll let you sit on is his lap.

he tends to gasp a lot when you’re both making out. HE IS NOISY!!!!!!

"Do you want to hear something funny?"

James and Remus were sitting at their usual table at Three Broomsticks, two and a half tumblers of Firewhiskey already warming up their tummy, while they were gobbling down their second plate of chips, waiting for Sirius to return from the loo.

"Remember how we talked about how Haz takes his tastes from Pads?" James continued, "What if I told you I found out that he's developed a crush on—"

"Don't you think that L/N moving is a bit too coincidental?" Sirius sat in his wooden chair with a thud, cutting James off halfway through his story.

He looked at him, "What do you mean?"

"Think about it... like, of all the places in England, she ended up getting the one spot closest to Moony! Isn't that weird?" Sirius spoke like someone who thought everything he said was totally plausible.

"England is really not that big, mate, and why would it be weird?"

Sirius gestured wildly with his hands, "Cos she used to have the fattest crush on you back in school... and now she suddenly rented a shop close to your workplace...?"

The other two Marauders exchanged an amused look, and Remus had to hide a smile inside his tumbler before saying, "First, she didn't have a fat crush on me —"

Sirius interrupted him, "Cut this low self-esteem bullshit, Moons, she was keen on you from day one. Wasn't she, Prongs?"

"Who? Y/N? Yeah, she totally had the hots for Moony—like, in love territory almost," James nodded vehemently and Sirius was so keen on making his point, that he hadn't even noticed how sarcastic his friend was actually being.

Honestly, Prongs didn't need to be so expressive with his words either, a simple 'yeah ' would have been enough, Sirius thought.

Remus shook his head, "She didn't fancy me, and secondly, why would it be weird that she rented that spot... when I was the one who told her about it in the first place?"

The table's silence lasted for exactly three seconds, before Sirius screeched a, "What!? How come no one's told me that? Why?"

"Because she is my friend, and we've been waiting for the price to drop for a while...?"

All of Sirius' thought out words died with that answer, he really wasn't expecting that to leave his friend's mouth, "Hum, I didn't realise you two were that chummy, again."

"Here we go... " James muttered before letting a short snort out, "Merlin, it's Hogwarts all over again."

"What's that supposed to mean? "

"Uh, that mating ritual you did with Y/N back in school?" Remus took that one.

The man's eyes widened, "You don't think, I don't—I didn't do any mating rituals with L/N! Are you two mental?" Sirius' laugh sounded too loud even to his own ears.

"Aw, c'mon, Pads," James pleaded, "Don't you think we're past that? We haven't set our foot in Hogwarts in almost a decade, we went through a bloody war, I have a literal child... I reckon you can admit having a crush on a bird from eight years ago—even if she was a Slytherin."

"I didn't have a crush on her!" Sirius protested, crossing his arms petulantly, just like Harry did—the real contest now was to see whose pout could be bigger.

"Padfoot, when you weren't watching her with heart eyes from afar, you were looking for ways to rile her up," James pointed out, "and when you couldn't do that, you'd spend that time complaining about her."

"It wasn't like that," Sirius rolled his eyes for extra emphasis, even though all he actually wanted to do was grab the edge of the wooden table and slam his forehead into it repeatedly. A warmth travelled from his neck to his cheeks, in the same way it did whenever he got angry — only he wasn't angry now. "It wasn't heart eyes, it was daggers... And it wasn't like I wanted to actually talk to her, you know, she forced herself into our conversations, all like, 'Hi, Rem. How was your class?' " He twirled his hair, and then huffed, "How was I supposed to not tease her over it?"

"You know she did that because you blew a fuse every single time, right?" Remus said, weirdly interested on the conversation now. Before, he'd thought he was going to walk out of Three Broomsticks with one hell of a headache, because he remembered how extensive Sirius' rants could be when he was worked up—especially when it came to Y/N. But now he could see how fun it could actually be… mostly because they were having fun at Sirius' expense—but fun nonetheless.

Sirius scoffed, "I don't doubt that, that girl's mind was always set on annoy me! I've never met anyone as infuriating, I swear, and she's still just as she infuriating as she was back then."

"How'd you know that?" James' face split into a wide grin, "You only mentioned seeing her once."

Before Sirius could reply, Remus raised an eyebrow, cheerily, "Oh, didn't he tell you? Our Padfoot here has become almost a regular at the Dark Side, now."

It wasn't like that, the man wanted to argue... Even thought it was kind of like that.

You see, Sirius had developed this new habit as of lately, something very amiable and that had no ulterior motives, no matter how many times Remus gave him that specific look...

Just that every time it was his day to pick up Harry from preschool, Sirius started to stop by that same café he'd visited last time, and simply bought a coffee or a tea and delivered it by hand to his good old friend Moony's work place. Sometimes bringing even a donut, or muffins, if he was feeling particularly kind-hearted.

All because he was worried about his mate and his terrible eating habits. Besides, it was an opportunity for them to catch up, since they didn't see each other as often as he saw James, who lived in a cottage across from his; and Harry, of course, loved seeing his Uncle Moony, and playing with Mrs Lee's kitty cat, who never showed its face whenever Sirius was too close... Most of all, none of it had anything to do with the owner of the record store across the street.

Believe him.

Sirius also didn't go there at a strategic time either, and he wouldn't lean against the counter while Moony worked, waiting for the time when most shops usually closed for the day, and then he also wouldn't wait for that former Slytherin alumni to open the door of the bookshop to say her farewell to her good friend Remus... Obviously not... It's just that going exactly fifteen minutes before the shops closed was just the most convenient time for Sirius, and if L/N had a habit of stopping by and striking up a conversation with him, what was he supposed to do? Be rude and leave her talking to herself? No, his parents did loads of bad, but he at least was well-mannered... when he wanted to be.

"Nothing you say will make me believe you, Black," Y/N shook her head, with a smile on her lips.

"Ask Moony!"

She raised her eyebrows, "Do you seriously think that I didn't know that he was just as bad as the lot of you?"

She must've seen the disbelief on his face, because she added, "He didn't actually say anything, but it's not very hard to guess... you have to be a little insufferable to be friends with a Black."

"You were friends with a Black," he pointed out, trying to keep his expression neutral.

"That's why I said it, I speak from experience," the woman replied, without the sad tone Sirius was used to hearing in the voices of people who had lost a loved one. "You ought to be barmy to befriend a Black... and Blacks are way too mad to befriend normal folks."

"I feel like I should be defending the honour of my name right now. I've never felt that before... wow... Were you trying to offend me?"

She grinned.

"Yes, a bit!"

See? Every bit infuriating as before.

Talking to L/N like that reminded him strangely of their time at Hogwarts, even if now was a bit different.

Now they were more civil, Sirius' hormones weren't going nuts, and he had no prejudices put in the front of his brain, that filtered any word or actions of hers as something automatically evil. Not like L/N and him were actually enemies before, no, they didn't trade insults Monday through Friday, and didn't scowl at each other over the weekend... although Sirius seriously enjoyed trying to rile her up, when he could.

But they were never friends either...

Sirius used to say to everyone that would listen, that he despised her completely — which, annoyingly, always made Y/N laugh whenever she heard it — all of this because his teenager brain thought that doing so would throw him off the rails and no one would ever be suspicious of the raw, embarrassing truth: that Sirius Black sported the biggest crush on the younger Slytherin, probably since he was a fifth-year, when he finally noticed her…

.

The teachers' stands were known by a small group of people as the most comfortable, and with the best view of the field, among all other stands on the Quidditch field; and it was for that very reason that three out of four Marauders were sitting in it now.

Watching the Gryffindor's Quidditch team practice wasn't something the boys were keen on doing... partially because it wasn't as exciting as the real game, and the other is that they also had other, more important things to do in their free period.However, ever since James had received the news that when Sanders graduated in July of this year, he would take up the spot of Captain, James had asked his friends to show up to support him.

And here the boys were, an hour and a half into it already; Remus helping Peter do his Transfiguration's essay, one that Sirius had loudly scoffed at and said the topic was so ridiculously easy, he'd already finished his during class; while practically lying on one of the stands, resting his chin on the arm plopped on the stands behind.

A noise coming from the stairs caught the attention of the three Marauders, and seconds later a girl's body came up little by little, until she stopped at the top of it; looking as surprised as they were to find someone else brave enough to wander there.

"Didn't know the faculty gained three new members today," she joked.

The girl was covered in a simple black robe, her hair blowing in the wind, undoing what seemed to once be a braid.She was pretty, and even though they looked about the same age, Sirius couldn't remember seeing her before — which wasn't too unusual for him, if he was being honest, as the boy didn't care for most of the people he went to school with... but this one bothered him, because she was pretty and Sirius always took noticed of other pretty people.

"I think you meant four..."

She shook her head, taking a few steps forward, "Oh, no one in their right mind would ever put me in that position, no. I'm only a mere pupil."

"I'm obliged to disagree with you, Miss..." he fished for her name.

"L/N."

She wasn't a pure-blood, Sirius thought with delight. This kept getting better. "Miss L/N, of course. I have to disagree, you see, 'cos I think any position would suit you." Across the stands, Peter's snort made Sirius' cocky grin widen.

"While you're completely right, I still don't think anyone would be that mad — even if they're apparently hiring anyone, these days."

Sirius didn't take what she said to heart, he loved it when they barked back, it made it all so much more interesting. It made them much more interesting. Remus on his right side apparently agreed, as he let out a breathy laughter out.

"Mad they'd be if they didn't," Sirius watched her from under his lashes. "Reckon I'd pay attention to class for once with a little eye candy like you to stare all day."

She didn't blush and lowered her head, nor frowned and told the Gryffindor to go eat shit, as the two out of three categories of girls usually did to him; not even the most common third one, where they'd blush and say, "You're such a pig, Black," but their words lacked any venom it needed for it to be sound truthful.

The girl just headed towards him, and to Sirius' surprise, crouched down with a distance of maybe a little more than half a metre between them.She had this expression on her face, which he would later just identify it just as 'That L/N face', because he never knew exactly how to decipher it; it was one where she looked amused, but you could never tell if she was laughing with you or laughing at you; as if everything were simply a play for her to be entertained, and you were one of little the actors.

"I wouldn't be able to pay attention, too," she said at last, a little smirk making a way to the corner of her mouth, "If I had that eye candy of a friend sitting next to me in my all my classes, as well."

And then, she grabbed a magazine that was hidden under the stand and made a show of winking at Remus. Before getting up and heading down once more, leaving a cackling Peter who clapped a flushed Remus on the back, and a gaping Sirius behind.

.

Sirius had become completely obsessed with her after that, he thinks with a grimace, in the same way Harry had become obsessed with any desert that contained peanuts after he found out he couldn't eat it.

The man didn't consider himself the Casanova he set himself out to be back in school, in fact, Sirius' always barked more than he's bitten—at the most, he must've actually dated four or five girls in all his years at Hogwarts... Not that none of it really mattered to him at the end, he could've dated a hundred or three, it didn't make a difference. Yes, sure, he wanted to get his prick wet as much as any other teenager around him, but for Sirius it was never just about that... He liked what came with it more, he liked that type of attention... He liked the prestige, liked how everyone else perceived him because of it.

Plus, the ego boost he gained from having several girls blushing and stuttering at his mere presence managed to silence that little voice that managed to get into his head and remind him that he'd never truly be wanted by anybody, even if just for a few minutes...

That thought he tried to push aside, and just focus on the girls, and the giggles and the clapping his classmates gave him in the back. It made him feel important; Hogwarts was his realm, and he loved to rule. (Harry's little voice echoed inside his head, something almost like, 'blah blah blah something about parental neglection, blah blah blah another about low self-esteem).

Who cared, anyway?

"I thought you were fit, obviously," Sirius said, without a hint of embarrassment, when they touched on the topic of their first impressions the other day.

The two had stopped bothering Remus in his work environment for a few days now, L/N once saying she needed to work and Sirius following her to the Dark Side because he couldn't let her have the last word in a very important discussion about the best Black Sabbath song. She said Sirius' opinion didn't count in this matter, because anyone who didn't like 'Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy ' couldn't be trusted to have a good opinion on anything else.

The woman was sitting at the shop counter with her legs crossed, as she usually did, while Sirius was leaning his back against it, at her side. Two empty coffee cups could be seen at the end, where they had been pushed aside some time ago.

She mouthed 'obviously' with a slight roll of her eyes, before looking away thoughtfully, "Hmm, mine's probably that you were... reserved?"

Sirius looked at her sideways, confused. Perhaps an 'arrogant', or 'a prat' would be his first choices, but, "Reserved? That's what you took from that day on the Pitch?"

She was the one who looked confused now, before shaking her head, "Oh, no, no. That day wasn't the first time I saw you. Unlike you, Black, I look beyond my own nose sometimes... No, it was supper I think, I remember looking around, and you were sitting right across from me, at the Gryffindor table. Everyone around you was talking over each other, and laughing, but you were just lost in your thoughts, not even blinking."

Sirius certainly didn't remember that, but he was pleased to know that he wasn't the only one who was affected by the other's presence when they met, even if she thought he was reserved and nothing like his usual self.

"All I hear is that you were already longing after me even before we— wait, was that day at the pitch even real? Or was it all a ruse to get me all alone?" Sirius smirked.

"You weren't even alone that day, tosser." She mimicked his smirk, "but funny how first impressions are, heh. Who would've thought that that same pensive boy, would turn out to be the same one who'd stop my practice to yell about how great my ass looked in my Quidditch robes."

Sirius held up his finger, "Now, wait a minute. You're spreading falsehoods!"

"Falsehoods?" Y/N put her hands on the counter, then lowered her voice, in a terrible impression of him, "Hey, L/N, is your new plan to distract the entire Gryffindor team with those new trousers?Meh, anything is better than your Chaser skills, at this point."

"I was offending you, you were aware of that, right?" Sirius put his hand on her shoulder for a second, feigning concern.

"You say that," she said, "But I've had years of experience in Black's words of ambiguity . You expect me to believe you weren't the one who ended up distracted by my trousers?"

His eyes automatically went to her bottoms, which were also covered in tight trousers, only this was one of those bell-bottoms that were sadly barely seen on Muggle streets over nowadays. Yeah ... uh, what were they talking about?

That was one of the things Sirius has always got weirdly irked about their weird relationship: the fact that he always ended up way more affected by things than L/N. In his normal day to day, it was complete the opposite—he was the one who afflicted someone. But since he could remember, all it took for him to get into a fit of misfiled anger was for Y/N to simply give him a cheeky grin... but her? Sirius could literally imply that she was pants at one of her passions, and she'd only give him that same amused face—or if she was feeling playful, she'd dramatically pretend to be angry at him for a bit.

"Uh, it's not my fault they were so tight. Prongs' wasn't like that!"

"Oh, yes, it was," she wiggled her brows.

"Ew, ew, ew. Stop that right now!" Sirius shook his head with a shudder, even if he had seen James' naked… everything more times he could count. "Merlin, witch. My brother, Moony and now Prongs. Who among my friends didn't you fancy at school?"

Besides him.

"How high are you right now? Reg, your friends?"

"Don't play coy now, everyone knew you fancied Moony back in school, and you said it yourself, the experience in Black's words of ambiguity."

Y/N threw her head back with a laugh, exposing the soft expanse of her neck. "Oh, you're keeping me young, Black. Sure, Remus and Potter are fit, but your brother being anything but extremely blunt with me? Not the Reg that I knew."

Sirius frowned, wait... if it wasn't about Regulus, then it was about...

"Don't tire your pretty little head out... Your brain is not used to such mechanics yet, you don't want to blow a fuse," Y/N said with a laugh, then ruffled his hair, before jumping off the counter and heading towards the costumer who had just entered the store.

.

Sirius had completely given up on the excuses he was making before to go see Y/N, and now at least once or twice a week, Remus could find his friend across the street, with little Harry on his toll, as he bugged his new apparent friend in her workplace.

They moved from standing in the middle of the bookshop, bothering Remus off and giving Mrs Lee plenty to gossip about; to sitting at the counter of the Dark Side, when the store was empty and Y/N had no work to do so; or leaning at the front door, watching as the sky darkened, as they stood talking until Remus closed the bookshop and reminded them they've been talking for far too long.

"Black, be a doll and carry that box for me," L/N gave him a sweet smile, adding a, "please? "

Rolling his eyes dramatically, Sirius still grabbed the card box off the counter, and jokingly said, "I thought you were all in for the equal rights movement. Weren't you supposed to show me you can carry that box all by yourself?"

They walked side by side, Y/N leading him as she went to one of the shelves further back—the pop music isle.

"Where's the fun in that? I get men to do what I don't want to as a way of reparation," she said, "besides, don't you think it's a good deal? I get to be lazy, and you get to look at a pretty bird for a couple of minutes."

It was a good deal, Sirius agreed, as he was in fact carrying that box and also enjoying the view. "That's such a snake thing to say."

"Is it?" she looked up at him, "I've always thought it to be such bullshit. I mean, I knew for a fact that loads of people pretended to be something they were not, to fit into their House's archetype."

Oh, that hit Sirius straight in that sore spot… If there was something he still carried a large amount of pride in, it was in that fact that he was chosen to be a Gryffindor, instead of a Slytherin; and how that showed everyone, and him, how truly different from his family he truly was. And having someone talking about students faking an archetype struck a chord with him. His shoulders straightened up, his voice a tad too much condescending when he said, "You're aware that who decides that is a magical hat, right?"

The woman turned to him, stunned by his sudden change of mood. "Yeah...? He poked inside my brain too, I'm sure you remember."

"Then you should know it doesn't take pretence into account, If you're a Gryffindor, you are a Gryffindor. If you're a Snake, you are a Snake."

"OK... I touched a nerve there."

Sirius replied with false nonchalant, "You didn't touch anything, I'm simply saying it. You shouldn't shit on an old, brilliant piece of magic, just because you weren't happy with the House you were sorted into."

She wasn't one to knowingly rise to someone's bait, the whole show of arguing and throwing offences weren't her thing and she simply didn't have the short temper it needed to work. No, Y/N was the one who liked to stay sideways watching the entire circus catch on fire, while she enjoyed a popcorn and said some, 'oohs' and 'ouchs' , to spur the thing into a blaze. That unless someone touched a very pointed sore spot of hers—Sirius hadn't, but he clearly had tampered her mood.

"You've clearly misunderstood of what I said, but know that I'm still very proud of the House I was sorted into," Y/N said, watching him with a slight narrow of her eyes, "Although you've always made your dislike very clear."

"You cannot tell me I'm being a whiny bitch about it," Sirius let out a humourless snort, setting the box on top of a shelf, "Slytherin housed most, if not all, of You-Know-Who's most prized followers… truly evil people. You cannot look like me like I'm being biased."

She couldn't disagree with that, but the three other houses also nurtured known Death Eaters as well, one whom Sirius himself called a close mate for years—not that Y/N would've actually pointed that out to him, but it was a fact they both well knew.

"OK, yeah , but it also housed my brother, and me—and Regulus," she retorted, and when the man raised his brows mockingly and opened his mouth to say something, Y/N raised her finger, "Don't —I don't want to fight you, Sirius, so if you're still thinking of saying what I know you meant, I'll have to ask you to leave."

That was her sore spot.

Sirius shook his head, jaws set in place, "No, I think it's best for me to leave already. Harry is probably looking for me."

He came back after a few days later, with no Harry and an embarrassed look on his face. Sirius stood close to the door after greeting her, with his hands tucked inside his pockets.

If the woman was still angry at him, she hid it well, "Hey, where's shortcake?"

"James'," he said, before cleaning his throat. Merlin, this was hard... Why did god give someone like him so much temper and not enough to 'apologisement' skills to fix it later on? "Hey, look—"

"I have inventory to do, d'you mind carrying that other box for me?" Y/N pointed towards the box on the floor.

Sirius looked at her face for a few seconds, recognizing the olive branch she was throwing his way, and smiled slightly. Rolling his eyes for drama, he sighed, "If I truly must... I don't know how this place ran without my strong arms to aid you this entire time."

Similar to that last day, they walked side by side.

"He cares," she said, "But don't worry, Remus has done a beautiful job."

He huffed a, "Moony ? No, he's a weakling," even if he knew, in fact, that Moony was not a weakling any more. Who knew that working out daily would've helped him with his monthly transformations?

Had Sirius mentioned that he needed to step up his working out routine?

They continued in a comfortable silence, Sirius practically hugging the box, while L/N was in front of him looking through the vinyls, searching for the titles that belonged in that section. Her tongue sticking out slightly, while she concentrated. Sirius could smell the fruity scent of her shampoo from where he was standing.

Merlin, she was a cute one.

"So, a record store..." Sirius broke the silence, "I never thought you'd do anything so... muggle . Heard Slughorn praising you in one of our classes a couple of times, thought you'd become a fancy Potioneer or something."

"Me? Oh, he must've meant my brother. I blew too many cauldrons for it to be me... Slug's day became brighter the day Reg and I started pairing up," she said, before blowing off a few strands of hair out of the face. "I dunno, records stores have always caught my attention... I wanted to build one in the wizarding world, to finally bring some good music to their depressing lives, but there's literally no available slot, so this one will do for now... I quite like it, to be honest. I've even applied to install a Floo Network in the back, so at least wizarding folks can come by quicker."

"Oh, purebloods wouldn't know what a good song is even if it hit them in the face," Sirius nodded in agreement. "You should talk with Prongs, he can speed that Floo thing up for you... but yeah, it's kind of hard to find rental places. I mean, mine was pure luck."

"At Diagon, right? I've walked by it a few times... It looks really good. Magical vehicles, right... what's the story?"

Sirius scratched his chin, "Um, there wasn't any big 'oh' moment... The Potters gave me a motorbike as a graduation gift, and I spent the entire summer of that year tinking with it... I've had a couple of blokes come up to me and ask me about it, but never gave it too much thought... until years later, when I had to go somewhere with baby Harry, and realized that every magical transportation is either too dangerous or not recommended for children until a certain age. That's when I started to do some work here and there for other people, until I decided to actually do something bigger with it."

"Stop it, now. Where is the boasting?" she asked, "You created a way to make Muggle cars fly, while invisible and safely... I literally saw a pureblood hiking on a Harley last week, and you're not boasting!? The only time I gave you a chance."

Sirius shrugged, he never knew what to say whenever people brought his business up, so he just watched Y/N in amusement.

She put the vinyl she was holding on top of the box, and turned to him, "In all seriousness, I think it's bloody brilliant, Black! Honestly... I've never seen anything like it before. I knew you were smart, but I can't even begin to think of the amount of 'tinking' you had to do to perfect a magic like that."

Sirius didn't say anything for a while.

That was perhaps the first time Y/N had ever said something to him that seemed to be one hundred percent sincere, one that didn't have any laugh, or that glint of mischievousness in her eyes. Sirius was taken aback by the openness of her face right now... Their conversations didn't go like that, usually they stayed on the topics of shared interest of theirs—music, books and muggle culture, the most personal ever being Harry... But even in his surprise, Sirius couldn't help but crack a big, genuine smile.

His shop was a very important matter to Sirius, one that always brought him tremendous proudness, since it has always been completely his.

His parent's money or rotten fingers have never touched that puzzle piece of his life... and it felt good to be seen, to be recognised by something he's done other than something he was born with.

Especially by someone, he realised, that he apparently started to appreciate their opinion as of lately.

Sirius tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear, "What about here? What's the story?"

She smiled, letting out a breathy laughter, "Oh, mine is very cheesy, I had that 'oh' moment you mentioned... I dunno, I've always loved music, I even tried once to meddle with my Walkman, so I could bring it to school, but loads of my House mates weren't very fond of Muggle devices… Anyway, I never really knew what I wanted to do, you know, but then one day in my fifth-year, my dad's friend got ill and gave him the two tickets he had bought to watch Pink Floyd's concert at Wembley... 'In the Flesh' Tour of '77," her eyes lit up, "I was completely mesmerized , never seen anything like that before..."

Sirius couldn't help but copy her smile, finding the way she glowed when she talked about the things she loved, absolutely adorable. "Was that your 'oh' moment?"

"Nope, that's when I thought I'd grow up to be a rock star," she made a funny face, picking up the vinyl out of the box again. "Can you even picture it? Little ol' me with big boots, shredding a guitar on a stage?"

He most definitely could picture it, Sirius gulped, images of her dressed in the tight black scraps of what the musicians he listened to called outfits; the leather, and the messy hair; the makeup melting along with the sweat that'd glisten on her bare skin...

"You could totally rock it, tho... the hair, the jacket," Y/N said, watching him out of the corner of her eye, "I mean, you do have a haughty little face, and walk like those posh wankers, but nothing that a little fixing can't do."

"Hey, now missy! You take that back," Sirius gasped, putting a hand on his chest, "Or I'll show you how posh this wanker can walk."

Sirius had no idea what he meant by that, but Y/N sang without a beat, a little smirk on her pretty lips that made him feel warm,

"Oh, is that a promise, Black?"

.

Y/N L/N was a person he enjoyed spending time with... No arguments, that was something Sirius had accepted about this new chapter of his life.

Yeah, he'd had a teenage crush on her before, but he'd never really got around to actually know her… Not that they knew each other quite well now, but it certainly was much more than before—then, he didn't even recall having a normal conversation with her. And now, he's seen her enough that he recognised the repeated clothes she wore.

Sirius had always known that Y/N was pretty, that she had a sharp tongue, and if she'd been sorted in any house other than Slytherin, he'd have trailed after her like a puppy, until she at least stopped telling him to shut up for being annoying, and instead shutting him up with her mouth on his... That's all he thought when someone mentioned her name before; how her hot breath would mingle with his under the shadows of the alcoves that he wanted to drag her to, in his wildest fantasies, after curfew; or whether she'd be wearing the usual uniform, or if she'd be sporting those green Quidditch robes, all sweaty and clamped into those extremely tight trousers.

Not that it differed much now, Sirius grinned, as he apparently had an entire section of his brain filled with fantasies just as explicit as the ones he'd used to create in his teen years without even realising… But it was different, now, in its own way—their dynamic; they weren't kids any more, and despite that awful moment of his, Sirius didn't think about non-senses like House rivalry any more... which meant that there were nothing that could really hold him back from actually chasing after her like a dog, no pun intended, even if the wording made his nose wrinkle.

Sirius couldn't pinpoint exactly why, but it just felt wrong to say it like that.

But what he did know was that she was pretty, and seemed at least a little bit interested and that he had just acquired a new bed that has never been debuted before... but still.

She was a person he enjoyed spending time with...

"And then, and then, he grabbed it off the floor and broke it and Mrs Peterson did nothing!"

"She did nothing!?" Y/N asked, almost as outraged as Harry. If Sirius wasn't in the position of being the serious godfather who was teaching him a lesson, he's let a goofy grin with the image of those two together.

It was way past the closing hour, as it was visible by the dim light that spread across the store, but the three of them didn't even see to notice it. Sirius watched his godson explaining to Y/N the reason he was grounded for the week, while they both say on the counter, legs gangling on the air.

Harry shook his head vigorously, happy to have someone on his side, "Nothing! And I got so, so..."

"Angry," Sirius helped him.

"Yes, angry, I was so angry—'cos Anne is my friend, and she didn't do anything wrong, so I punched him!" Harry punched the air with his chubby little fists.

"And that's how you got that boo-boo?" Y/N delicately touched the bruise on his cheek, brows furrowed with worry. Harry hummed, shyly enjoying the woman's pampering over him. "Aw, poor baby."

Harry has always been a very clingy toddler. From spending his first year of life locked inside Potter's Cottage with only his parents for company, to then being mostly cocooned by two war survivors who were still scared for his life on the daily, it was almost impossible for him to be anything but extremely clingy to his family–but that was it, his family . Harry was just as wary of strangers as James and Sirius were, especially as everyone still fawned on him like he was a celebrity, a statue to be looked at.

So watching him accept the care and closeness of someone who wasn't his father, or him and Moony, with his little eyes closed and a faint blush on his cheeks, was mind-boggling to Sirius. Although he couldn't blame him, since the man would have done the same if he were in his godson's shoes at the moment—but that wasn't a thought he wanted to indulge in, much more.

"Now, can you explain to Y/N why you were grounded, poor baby?" Harry scowled at him, which would've made Sirius, in his normal day, want to squeeze his little cheeks, but that matter still left him on the edge. "Harry ... what did your dad say?"

The boy sighed, plopping his chin on his palm.

"Violence is not the answer..." he grumbled, "I should've told another teacher about it..."

Sirius could feel Y/N's gaze on him as he smiled at his godson, and held his open hand to him to high-five it.

"That's my boy!"

A few minutes later, when Remus had knocked on the door to say they would be closing soon, and Sirius told Harry to go with him to get his belongings, Y/N looked at him and fake-whispered, "So, we all agree that the other kid totally deserved it, right?"

"Oh, yeah," Sirius agreed instantly, watching her shutting the blue panel blinds, "I would've done worse, if it were me."

Y/N laughed through her nose, "Don't I know that. I'm surprised neither of you threw a party to celebrate his first fist fight."

"Don't act so surprised, we actually entertained it for a second... at least later on..." Sirius ran a hand through his hair. And then all of a sudden, everything he'd been cooking about these past few days started to come out of his mouth like a water fountain, without his permission. "It's just... we were so angry, you know, I've rarely seen Prongs that livid before... Someone hurt Harry , someone laid a hand on our little speck of human... I didn't care that it was another kid, just that Prongs was banging on my door and all I saw was Harry, with a face full of snot and a bruise forming on his cheek," Sirius shook his head, fists clenching. "I wanted to hunt that children's father and beat him to pulp... I guess it clocks with that Black madness you mentioned before."

"That's not madness," she instantly replied, "besides, wanting to hurt someone and actually hurting someone are two very distinct things."

Sirius had the clear feeling that Y/N understood what he meant without him needing to explain himself further.

"He can't grow up thinking it's OK to hurt someone like that... can't have that type of madness in him, Lily would've hated that... It's Harry, you know, he's supposed—he's the best of us."

The two fell into a thoughtful silence, just as Sirius realised what he had just done and was waiting for the absolute horror that it'd strike him at any second. What had just happened?

Sirius wasn't the type to talk about his inner thoughts, in fact, he liked to keep his feelings in a little corner inside his brain that he could never reach, until one day he'd have to deal with them exploding in the middle of a convenience store.

As if sensing the turmoil that the man next to her was going through, Y/N hummed, "So you want him to be Remus?"

Sirius caught himself snorting, silently thanking her for the exit she'd given him. "I said the best of us—not the most boring of us, please."

"You know, Black," L/N said, a few long seconds of silence later, when she was closing the front door, "You've changed a lot since Hogwarts."

"Handsomer, I know. No one ever thought possible, but here I stand," Sirius untucked the hair from behind his ears. If there was one thing he was a master at doing, it was running away from matters he didn't want to talk about and pretending it was all one big joke.

"Handsomer?" L/N turned and gave him her full attention, running her eyes over Sirius as if she was analysing him.

When it came to appearance, Sirius had never really felt insecure before—of course, everyone had their moments, but his moments were never something that lasted long or were even frequent. Sirius' insecurities have always been more internal than anything else... But he couldn't lie and say that there wasn't something quite unnerving about how Y/N was studying him like that; more so, because Sirius wanted her eyes to always be on him—to find him attractive. In fact, he knew that she looked at him, he felt the weight of her eyes before and usually basked on the feeling of it. But no one had ever stopped, and looked at every part of him so bluntly, without any pretence—especially after he was still feeling a bit vulnerable after what he's said.

But her gaze didn't feel too heavy, nor too judgemental and as Y/N brought her hand closer to his face and touched the tips of his hair, then releasing it as if she's never even moved, Sirius realised how close they really were.

"I dunno..." she gave him a small smile. "But you're giving me long-haired Harrison vibes right now."

Sirius grabbed the strands she'd touched and actually looked at it. His hair had grown quite a bit since his years at Hogwarts; from the shaggy cut he'd sported, Sirius' raven hair touched his shoulders now.

"Everyone knows Harrison looked hotter with long-ish hair anyway, so I'll take the compliment."

Letting out a breathy laugh, L/N looked around before putting the usual wards in place.

"I think the change did you good. I like it."

Sirius had understood exactly what her ambiguous words meant, but his discomfort didn't let him do anything more than fiddle with his hair again, like a nervous tic.

"And the hair too, of course, it suits you— both," she added.

A warmth travelled from his neck to his cheeks, exactly like that night at Three Broomsticks, and Sirius now couldn't pretend that the loud thumping of his heart hadn't meant anything other than a reaction from what the woman had said...

Matt wasn’t worried when he came home at two and you weren’t there. 

He was worried when you hadn’t come home by 4. You’d gone to a friend’s bachelorette party, and while he expected to last into the middle of the night, He’d tried calling you 5 times, and you hadn’t answered. 

All at once, he focused on your footsteps coming down the hall, and the smell of blood and antiseptic flooding his senses. 

He was at the door before you even reached it. It startled you a little, seeing his beautiful, unseeing eyes flooded with worry. 

“Are you okay? What happened?” He asked, running his hands up and down your arms stopping where he felt a stitched cut on your forehead. 

Wincing, you had to explain that your friend had gotten so drunk, that she collapsed onto you and you’d whacked your forehead into the edge of the bar. 

Matt relaxed, but hissed as if he felt your pain. 

"I called you and you didn't answer. I was worried at that point."

"Oh crap I must have left my phone at the bar..."

“You’re sure you’re okay though? No memory issues?”

“Yea I’m pretty sure. Ask me something.” 

“What’s my middle name?” He held your arms and you sighed. 

“Michael.” You said, unenthusiastically, then smirked. “Stop being such a worrisome boyfriend.” 

He choked, unsure if he heard you correctly. 

“You-you don’t—“ his fingers traced your wedding ring as if willing you to remember. You rolled your eyes.

“Oh my God Matthew, I’m kidding. Yes, I know we’re married.”

He looked at you flatly. “I hate you.”

“Nada, Mr. Murdock, you love me.” You crooned, moving closer to him. 

He feigned a sigh. “I suppose I do, but you just about gave me a heart attack. I could probably sue you.” He gave a lopsided grin. 

You stopped just before his lips. “Well I’ve got a really good lawyer.”

“That, love, you do.”

Your lips melted against his, sending butterflies racing through your stomach. God, you fell in love with this man more and more every day. 

He pulled you to his chest and held you tightly. 

“But don’t ever scare me like that again.” He whispered. 

“No promises.”

He made a sound of protest that faded into a sigh as you stroked a spot of sensitive skin behind his ear. 

“Have I ever told you that I love you, Mrs. Murdock?”